Head Case

Garrett Keogh in Head Case. Image by Conleth White

****

Dublin Old School meets Waiting for Godot in Garrett Keogh’s absorbing Head Case. Like Emmet Kirwin’s energised tale, Keogh’s self-penned monologue arrives via free flowing verse. Like Beckett’s Waiting for Godot it’s all about waiting and the discrepancy between what is and what should be told through absurdist humour. Juxtaposing the horrific state of the Irish healthcare system with what most would consider basic standards of decency and dignity. Godot might never turn up, but the conditions in an Irish A&E unit are man-made, avoidable and solvable. A point Keogh doesn’t labour, even as he makes it plain by way of observational character studies as he waits in vain for a hospital bed.

What brought him to A&E being a food fight that went too far. A suspected head injury resulting from a fired carrot that, like the proverbial butterfly’s wings, led to a tsunami of aggression on the far side of laughter. The dark stained story and its domino effect more a lynch pin rather than a through line. Something to set up observations of the people and practices that populate an A&E unit without sensationalism. The aggression and violence experienced by hospital staff hinted at by way of chairs welded to the floor and oppressive security guards. The tense calm when life threatening injuries take greater priority numbed by vomit stained soilings and eventual head x-rays as Keogh’s protagonist eternally waits.

Garrett Keogh in head Case. Image by Conleth White

If Keogh's observational detachment seems to pull its punches, it’s because he’s not dealing in realism. It’s the utter absurdity rather than the visceral impact of the situation Head Case chooses to foreground. Keogh’s clever rhythms and rhymes establishing pace as well as non-realist context. Music’s call and response convention wonderfully effective as Keogh’s absurdly sung call “I’m waiting” never receiving its response. Echoed in the intriguing use of inner and outer voices articulating the frustrated inner monologue hidden behind an outer reserve. Distracted from occasionally by Conleth White’s lighting design trying too hard to accentuate what was fine in the first place. Live music by accomplished pianist Hélène Montague yielding something of a pyrrhic victory. Reminiscent of a live score, with clumsy sound effects, being played during a silent movie. More often framing proceedings like an old time, party piece. One where the raconteur regales the room with a funny after dinner story told around the piano. Leaving Head Case most likely to speak best to an older audience.

It’s easy to highlight all that Head Case is not, all that it neglects to address, all the punches it chooses not to land. But it bears restating, Head Case is not trading in realism. Surrender to its mild mannered, old school, absurdist charms and Head Case will give up its secrets. Absorbing, often charming, always engaging, Head Case might not kick you in the teeth, but it lands its velvet gloved punches with considerable panache. Keogh proving, once again, he’s a master craftsman.

Head Case, written and performed by Garrett Keogh, with live piano by Hélène Montague, runs at Bewley’s Café Theatre until September 7.

For more information visit Bewley’s Café Theatre